


Thomas' Worst (Best?) Week Ever

by mitsukai613



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Cock Rings, Light Bondage, M/M, cock blocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1270804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's aura has gone crazy, sending off signals to everything and everyone nearby about how long he's been celibate, and all of his suitors are starting to pay visits or show interest. Thomas has to work overtime to keep them away, but in the end, it certainly proves worth it because he gets to finally claim Harry as his own. This one was also done for a really old prompt on the kinkmeme. The original prompt is located here:  http://scribe-protra.dreamwidth.org/306.html?thread=330290#cmt330290 while the totally filled part is located here: http://dresden-kink.dreamwidth.org/3344.html?thread=3921936#cmt3921936</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thomas' Worst (Best?) Week Ever

**Author's Note:**

> It's only an hour and a half until Wednesday, so I decree that this is getting posted close enough to the proper time that it totally counts. Also, you might get sort of a dub-con-y feel from this, mostly just because Thomas is White Court, but I didn't write it to be dub or non-con. Just putting this warning here just in case, to cover my bases and all that.

                Harry is an oblivious moron. I just feel like I need to say that right now. He’s an oblivious moron who has less self-awareness than a toddler and is somehow capable of ignoring the signs his own damn aura has been throwing out for as long as I’ve lived with him. I’m pretty sure he deserves an award at this point for his determination to stay entirely unaware of anything relating to anyone being attracted to him ever.

                I can’t say I’m actually complaining, though. It makes my job easier. See, I’m his half-brother, but I take offense to people fucking him, no matter how many times his aura reveals that he’s practically begging for it. He’s my baby brother, he always has been, he’s been mine every moment that I figured out he existed, even before I found him and told him who I was. It’s been getting… stressful, though, keeping him safe. It’s been getting more so the longer he goes without being with anyone.

                The signs are getting stronger; impossible waves of lust and frustration that pour off of him endlessly. It attracts things, attracts people, my sister Lara certainly not the least among them. I can hardly go near him myself anymore without shuddering, without drinking just the tiniest little bits of it, and he’s starting to think that I’m ignoring him, or that I’m angry with him, or a hundred other things. I’m not, though, although I am annoyed with all these other people around him. The past week has been the worst, though. The past week has been something like hell.

                Every day I’ve had to help him dodge a different offer, a different bed, and he hasn’t noticed a bit of it. He never does. He never _has._ Sometimes I wonder how he’s managed to live so long without me looking after him. You’ll understand what I mean when you hear all these stories, though. You’ll figure out that really anyone would do what I did for someone they love, if they really wanted to keep them safe and happy and with only a person who deserves him. And I love Harry, my amazing baby brother, more than I love pretty much anyone. After all, he is the only brother I have, and he can’t look after himself like my sisters. That’s a little off topic, though; I’m here to tell you about the Week of Seductions and Cock-Blocking.

* * *

 

MONDAY

                It started on Monday, but then again, most terrible things do. See, a ritual has arisen recently, one that really, really pisses me off. I might have fixed it, though, after this week, and if I haven’t, well, I’ll be around for a lot of Mondays.

                See, the first thing on Monday morning, we get a knock on the front door. Harry never hears it, so generally I’m the one who has to haul my ass up and open the door. It’s always the same person, too: Johnny goddamned Marcone. And he always comes bearing gifts of food and tickets to shows and anything else he thinks Harry might want. Usually I take it and dispose of it appropriately, always promising that yes, of course I’m giving it to Harry, I have no reason not to, but on this particular Monday, Harry answered the door instead. I don’t even want to mention how thrilled Marcone was by this. I could feel the waves of happiness wafting off of him from all the way across the room, and I wasn’t even trying. Harry, at least, was decidedly less happy, but I could still feel the lust in him roiling because he’d never found Marcone ugly whether he liked the man or not.

                I took this as my cue to come up to the front door and drape myself across his arm, though. Marcone’s happiness dimmed and I grinned my perfectly vapid pretty boy grin. Harry shifted his weight a little and I sipped at the feelings on his skin, like I always did. He went just the tiniest bit limp but it wasn’t enough that Marcone noticed. At least, I don’t think he did. He might have. He did look a little pissed after that. Oh well.

                “Marcone? What the hell are you doing here, scumbag?” he asked, and his voice was tired because he hadn’t slept last night. I knew that because I hadn’t either, because I’d just stayed up with him and complained about my lack of beauty rest. He’d just laughed and said I hadn’t needed it anyway and then we’d talked about his nightmares and we’d sort of cuddled on the couch for the rest of the night. Marcone hid his emotions well, on the surface, but I could feel his confusion. I wondered if he had any idea how useless all of his practice at concealing his feelings was to creatures like me. I hoped he didn’t; I didn’t want to lose my advantage.  

                “I come by every Monday,” he said, and Harry turned his face towards me, blinking owlishly, too tired to be near anyone but me. A surge of lust suddenly hit me, coming from Marcone, and when I glanced at him I saw hunger in his eyes. Harry seemed to see it too because understanding dawned on his face. Silly me, I was actually worried that he’d caught on for a second. He hadn’t, though. Empty Night, he never did.

                “Oh. Oh! So, uh, I can, um, go out for a while, I guess. In that case. Uh. Yeah. Just, you know, let me get dressed. And then I’ll leave. So you two can have. Alone time. Yeah. Don’t mess up my house.” He tried to untangle himself from me, but I held tight. Some of my previous lovers have compared me to an octopus, although I can’t imagine why.

                “Harry, this is in no way what you’re thinking it is. I’d never fuck… that.” Marcone gaped, as much as he ever gapes. It was actually pretty funny, and I wrapped my arms around Harry’s waist as an added plus. He settled a hand, perfectly natural, on my shoulder. I guessed it was a byproduct of me slowly, carefully, acclimating him to being touched after he’d gone so many years avoiding it and having it blocked from him. Marcone’s eyes were fixed on the hand as if it were the most shocking thing he’d ever seen and I spared him a smirk. I could see him putting together puzzle pieces behind his eyes, could see a million angry little marks appearing beside my name.

                “No. I would not stoop to his level either. I suppose this is why I never received any feedback for my gifts?” Harry pursed his lips.

                “Gifts? Thomas, are you going to explain this to me any time soon? I’m getting kind of confused.” I patted his hip and pulled away, slid him carefully behind me.

                “Marcone’s been sending you some pretty little poisons,” I said, and I wasn’t lying, per se. They were poison, just not in the sense he’d think. Marcone seemed to know that too because I could see him opening his mouth to protest. “I didn’t want to worry you, so I’ve been getting rid of them for you.” Harry glared and hip checked me out of the way to stand in front of Marcone and I could hardly hold back my laughter. Marcone might have a silver tongue straight from hell, but no one had one good enough to stop Harry if he thought he’d been wronged somehow.

                “Poison, huh? And here I thought we’d come to an understanding, Marcone.” He stepped closer and stuck one long, pointed finger onto Marcone’s chest. I could hear his heartbeat, his breathing, pick up. His fingers twitched with an urge to grab Harry, to pull him close. The hunger was roiling, in him and me.

                “He is being untruthful. Come, Harry; I’ll take you out and we can discuss this, yes? I only want the best for you,” he said, and reached out to touch Harry’s arm. I swatted it away and if Harry noticed me do it, he didn’t mention it. I still wanted to hit the asshole Marcone, though, because I knew exactly where Harry would end up if he went with Marcone now, knew exactly what Marcone would do. I am a predator, I know that, and it doesn’t always bother me because it means that I can read other predators like a book. Marcone is a predator of the highest order, and when I looked at his face, into his eyes, I saw that urge, that barely covered want. No way in hell was Harry leaving with him.

                “Yeah, Marcone, I’m really going to believe that Thomas is lying to me about something like that. Hell’s Bells, he’s my… he wouldn’t lie to me. Get out.” He slammed the door and Marcone’s powerful emotions, his lust, his anger, his jealousy, his everything, were abruptly cut off by the wards. I dragged Harry away from the door just in case because I didn’t trust him. I could still feel his aura surging around him, so I kept him home with me for the rest of the day, slowly, carefully, sipping at the excess so I wouldn’t have to worry over someone attacking him if he went outside. If I’d known how much worse the rest of the week would get I’d have almost wished for Marcone to come back and be a nuisance. At least all I had to do for him was give Harry a reason to yell at him, and that was actually entertaining. The other assholes that caused problems during my week of hell were way worse.

* * *

 

TUESDAY

                Tuesdays are breakfast with Murphy and Kincaid days. I found this out the first week I lived there, discovered that day’s routine. Harry would always get up early and dress in his going out clothes, meaning an actual clean t-shirt and jeans that sort of fit. He would then proceed to sit impatiently on the couch for about twenty minutes, at which point Murphy and Kincaid would knock on the door and spirit him away to IHOP. After that, Kincaid would usually leave and Harry and Murphy would go to the dojo and practice aikido. I was generally perfectly okay with this because three people was safe. Whenever one of them showed up to get Harry without the other, though, I got a little nervous, especially when it was just Kincaid.

                As a wonderful addition to the Monday of before, Kincaid showed up alone that Tuesday. Harry smiled anyway, his arms crossed over his ill-advised t-shirt with a picture of his ridiculous D and D character (given to him, custom made, by the Alphas).

                “Hey, Kincaid. Murphy busy?” He nodded.

                “Yeah, she got called in by the precinct today. Some shit about people reporting seeing something like a pterodactyl outside of town.” Harry and I both valiantly avoided being confused by that, which I’m pretty sure means that we have been here for way too long and deserve a Nobel Peace Prize.

                “Oh. Guess it’s just you and me today then, huh?” Kincaid grinned and sidled closer, mischief in his face.

                “I’m sure we can have plenty of fun by ourselves,” he said, tossing an arm over Harry’s shoulder and pulling him awkwardly down to his height. Well. That just wouldn’t stand, obviously.

                “Why don’t I come along?” I asked, “Make it a trio.”

                “I don’t think he needs his boyfriend trailing after him wherever he goes, vampire,” Kincaid said, and there was a little annoyance in the words that didn’t come through on his playful face. Harry rolled his eyes and pulled himself back up.

                “He’s not my boyfriend, asshole. Come on, Thomas, if you’re coming.” I gave the dog bastard a haughty, victorious look and we all walked out together, into his cheap, battered car. Kincaid made very certain that Harry got into the front seat beside him, and I sat in the very center of the back seat even though it was incredibly uncomfortable all so I could see where his hands were.

                “Well, hey, if he’s not your boyfriend, you’re free, right? Want to have some fun with me one day?” He turned his wolfish smile to Harry, and I thought that there was no way that Harry couldn’t get that, no way in hell. But I’ve underestimated him before, and I certainly was then, because he only laughed.

                “Hell’s Bells, stop joking around like that. Murphy might kill you if she hears you talking to me like that.” He shrugged, the slightest traces of confusion on his face, because he hadn’t been joking and he didn’t know Harry well enough to understand why he thought he was. As for myself, I just wanted to reach up there and shake him, but then I wanted to do that a lot. Of course, I don’t understand why I think that will grant him any form of sense, considering how often various monsters shook him like a ragdoll. Still, I’m sure you can understand the urge.

                “She’s welcome to join in,” Kincaid finally said, having apparently decided that Harry assumed that Murphy would be jealous and that was the reason he assumed he was joking. “She and I aren’t exclusive or anything anyway. Neither of us is big on that; it’s just a little fun, you know? Just offering to give you a piece of the action.” Harry rolled his eyes.

                “I know I’m pathetic, Kincaid, but I don’t need quite _that_ much pity,” he said, and sometimes I really don’t have to help out because Harry misunderstands plenty on his own. I really did need to stop this before Kincaid finally got across what he was actually attempting to say, and it would happen eventually. Harry wasn’t stupid, just oblivious to stuff like sex and romance and all that other shit. Kincaid heaved a sigh.

                “It’s not-,” I interrupted because I’m such a good brother.

                “Kincaid, you should probably just shut up before you stuff your foot even farther into your mouth.” Harry nodded in agreement, and Kincaid turned a quick glare towards me through the rearview mirror. I only offered him a smirk, tight and triumphant again. No way was I letting a _Hound of Hell_ fuck my baby brother. That might’ve been worse than the goddamn mobster.

                “Not his boyfriend my ass,” Kincaid murmured as we pulled suddenly into the parking lot of the IHOP, and Harry jumped out and ran to the door like a little kid. Kincaid and I got out far more sedately and trailed after him. “Is he good?” Kincaid finally asked, something dark on his face, that demon inside him calling out for mine, calling out to fight.

                “Shouldn’t matter to you, should it? I mean, it’s not like you’re ever going to find out.” He laughed but it wasn’t friendly, it wasn’t warm. It was dangerous. He was getting pissed off with me and I knew why; he wasn’t used to being denied someone he wanted because people normally just fell all over him. If I were being honest, I’d say that I had the same issue.

                “You know how his aura looks, don’t you? I don’t know if this is some fucked up thing the two of you do, and if it is, whatever, but you know it’s dangerous for him. There’s things out there a lot more interested in that than me and a whole hell of a lot of them aren’t polite enough to ask first. He’s pent up as all hell, and if you’re going to keep him from fixing that with anyone else you need to fix it your damn self, or someone else is going to do it for you.” I just laughed as we walked in and found Harry already seated and ordering some special they were offering that almost certainly had a million pounds of sugar on it and twenty million calories. I couldn’t really complain, though; if anyone needed to eat stuff like that, it was him.

                Anyway, the rest of the meal was at least uneventful because Kincaid stayed at least mostly polite. There were a few times where he put his hands somewhere he didn’t need to, but he’d move them when I gave him a sharp look. See, Kincaid has spent a lot of time with the Erlking, meaning propriety is more important to him than it is to most things, and my words had given him cause to think that I had propriety over Harry. That meant that until he thought that I didn’t, he was perfectly willing to keep his hands off if I told him to. I had to admit it was a welcome change, and he didn’t protest when I rode in the front seat on the way back to Harry’s and my apartment.    

* * *

 

WEDNESDAY

                Wednesday was just stupid, but then Wednesdays always are. It started with a case, but that’s pretty much always true too, come to think of it. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that Murphy called Harry and had him come out to assist with a call she’d received of a giant reptilian thing that was currently terrorizing college students. I’d also like to say that compared to some of the calls Harry gets, that was downright normal. Whatever, though; the important part is that Harry packed up and left right after this call, and I, of course, came with him.

                We went to the campus and it was really obvious as to where the thing was because it was, like, eight feet tall, lizard-like, and it wore a golden crown that gave it another foot. Also, there was at least a hundred foot radius cleared out around the monstrosity. Harry, of course, strode right up to it as if he had no fear and then I saw the creature’s golden eyes gleam with a new light.

                The thing fluttered its dry, leathery wings regally and I realized something pretty damn terrible all at once: that thing was an adolescent dragon. It was an adolescent dragon and Harry was just marching right up to it as if it were a common troll. I say again that my baby brother, despite how much I love him, is a fucking moron.

                “Yeah, okay, sorry, but you’re going to have to rampage elsewhere, buddy.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. The beast fluttered its wings again and stared down its snout at Harry.

                “What right have thee to tell me where I might form my kingdom, little Wizard?” I began to make my way a little closer to Harry, who was currently raising his chin and standing up just a little straighter.

                “This is my city,” he said. The dragon laughed, his voice sounding as if he’d swallowed a gallon of kerosene and lit a match in his throat.

                “Is that so? I’m afraid I quite like it, Wizardling. I should like to keep it for myself, as my territory. I have seen many towers that ought to serve me well. Soon the name Araneaevax will pass through the lips of every pathetic human thing here; they will see me as their True King.” Harry rolled his eyes and I really just wanted to slap him once, good and hard, to see if sense would transfer through my hand and into his thick skull.

                “I don’t think so. Try the next state over, or, you know, the Nevernever where you’re supposed to be. As a Warden of the White Council and as the Regional Commander of this part of the country, Chicago is under my protection. Also, there’s already a baron running around town too, so there really isn’t enough room here for one more big swinging dick.” That… well, actually, that was a pretty apt description of this place. Maybe I should make it into an informational pamphlet, like the ones Harry makes on magic. Chicago: we have a lot of big swinging dicks. Please don’t send us any new ones. The dragon laughed and stepped closer to Harry, one massive, clawed paw reaching out to pat him on the head as if he were just the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. I stepped closer again and a growl slid from my throat unbidden, low and rumbling and terrible even to me.

                “It seems I have found something interesting here,” he said, “Perhaps thou can rule with me. Thou are quite pretty, I suppose, and thou hold magic within thee. Oh, yes, thou are quite a valuable little piece. Thou may be my queen.” I honestly had no words for that, and it looked like Harry didn’t either. Unlike Harry, however, I did have some actions in response; I ran at the motherfucker, my sword drawn, and I really would have gored it through the stomach but it just slid out of the way like nothing and laughed.

                “Bastard,” I snarled, and Harry finally seemed to come to his senses well enough to get ready to fight alongside me. As a matter of fact, I could even feel the heat being sapped from the area immediately around me as he began to call his fire. The dragon seemed distinctly not worried. To tell you the truth, he actually seemed a little bit more like he just thought we were both really fucking adorable again. That only pissed me off more, and I felt the demon swirling around in me one more time. I could feel how badly it wanted me to kill the creature, to take pleasure in it bleeding its bluish blood. It wanted me to rip and to rend and more accurately, it wanted me to take. It wanted me to take life and take pleasure. I took a deep breath and tried to fight it back but it wasn’t working as well as it normally did. I looked at Harry and that only made it worse.

                “Ah, is the Wizard already taken by thee? I suppose we must fight for him then, yes? That is how it is traditionally done among thou humans, correct? Dueling?” Harry laughed.

                “You’re a few centuries late, pal. Also, that’s not my husband or my boyfriend or my fiancé or whatever else you think he is. I am completely unattached because shockingly enough skinny Wizard isn’t exactly what most people describe when asked for their ideal lover. That does not mean that I am going to marry you, though. I’m not a big fan of… whatever you are. Dragon, I guess, with a name like Araneaevax.” You know, he is my brother. I should technically be allowed to hit him a few times, right? Of course.

                “How silly. Thou desire courting? I suppose I could manage. I could easily take on a form more pleasing to thee as well, of course.” Harry blinked and then looked at me as if the fact that the dragon wanted to fuck him had only just managed to worm its way into his head. I rolled my eyes and shifted my stance a little more, got myself ready to fight. “But first we must remove this… interloper.” I lunged at him again and Harry finally decided to get over the whole dragon marriage thing and help me. It honestly didn’t take much more than a few slashes of a conveniently iron sword and a few scales getting singed off before it gave in, and that really was a change of pace. The terror in its golden eyes made the monster inside me chortle and rejoice, and I bit it back.

                “Done already?” Harry panted, sporting a new set of slash marks across his chest, dangerously close to the stitches he’d had to get due to a previous and entirely unrelated event involving a relative of Cerberus who just happened to have a splinter in his paw which very reasonably got it pissed off enough to start spitting fire in places where fire ought not be spat.

                “He’s just a little bitch,” I said, and maybe I was just slightly hyped up too. Harry shook his head and held out a hand to tell me to pause. He’d mostly gone after my face instead of the rest of me, so pale blood dripped from a deep gash on my cheek and more came from another slice that had just narrowly missed taking out my eye.

                “Nah, it was a good fight. You can go in respect, Araneaevax. Stones, I’ll probably see you around again sometime. Maybe I’ll pay a visit to whatever territory you make for yourself in the Nevernever.” And then Harry bowed a little at the waist, and I could understand why; dragons are creatures of respect, and doing and saying shit like that would get him to leave without further damage. I didn’t like it, though, didn’t like watching my brother bowing to someone. The dragon bowed back, its chest heaving and its black scales dyed ever so slightly blue.

                “I shall look forward to it, Wizardling. Perhaps when thee see mine might thou will be more amenable to us being wed. I must say I look forward to that even more; thou have certainly displayed that thou would be a worthy, strong partner to me.” Harry snorted and apparently thought the beast was just joking or something because he waved him off, and the dragon tore open a hole to the Nevernever and left. Another case was concluded, I guess, but that stupid fucking week was nowhere near done yet.

* * *

 

THURSDAY

                Thursday actually started out pretty well, and I should’ve known better than to think it would last. Still, it was a pretty awesome morning; Harry and I stayed in, and I made something resembling breakfast that we both managed to choke that. After that, we sat on his couch together, him propped mostly on my shoulder while he read and me twirling his hair. I still wished he’d let me style it; I mean, I could make him look even better if he’d give me five minutes with it. Of course, it would only be around the house styles, though; he gets enough attention as it is, I’m not going to go making it worse for no good reason.   

                Everything went pretty much downhill after the sun went down, though, because we got a knock at the door and when I opened it there stood my sister, a cold smile curling her lips and her bodyguards standing by her car in the parking lot.

                “Thomas, so lovely to see you! I do hope I’ve not interrupted anything,” she said, eyes glittering, and I rolled my eyes.

                “Lara, why are you here? I’m an exile. This is dangerous for you and nothing I’m doing here is any of your business.” She laughed.

                “I only thought I’d pay a visit to my darling little brother and his brother. A nice family reunion, yes?” I tried to shut the door but then Harry came to stand beside me.

                “Lara? What are you doing here?” he asked, and she smirked just a little, too minute for Harry to notice, but I knew it was for me anyway, not him.

                “I thought I might come by to discuss Justine. She is missing Thomas greatly, and I had hoped to arrange a visit.” Harry looked really understanding and I wanted to hit him. “By the way, brother, you’re looking quite… famished. I question why, when you’ve such an available source so close by. Perhaps you’re neglecting your duties, my little brother? Shall I deal with it for you?” Harry looked a little lost and I elbowed him back from the door a little.

                “Shut up, Lara.”

                “You can come in,” Harry told her, “For long enough to talk to Thomas about Justine anyway.” Lara took the offer and once more I wanted to tear my own hair out. I was pretty sure he’d never heard of there being such a thing as too much trust, and if he had he didn’t care.

                “Thank you,” she said, settling on Harry’s couch, “Might I have a drink? Coffee would be lovely, if you have it.” And so Harry left me alone with my sister so that he could make coffee. “He’s looking absolutely _delicious_ Thomas! How could you let such a treat sour?” I clenched my teeth.

                “He’s human, Lara, and I’m his brother. He doesn’t do that, not like we do, and I’m not going to force him.” She laughed.

                “You always were the weakest of us. Justine is missing you quite a lot, by the way.” I looked away from her because I still felt guilty over what I’d done. I really did love Justine, if not in the way that I loved Harry. She was beautiful and over the years of her giving me what I needed I had grown to care deeply, to love, her. I didn’t want to see her yet, not until I had more time to think about what I’d done, about how to apologize. “Do you not love her anymore, Thomas? Is your darling little brother too sweet to consider your once love?”

                “Shut up, Lara, of course I still love her. I love them both, in different ways; I’ve come to love Justine like I do you, or any of my other sisters. Harry is… he’s the only one that’s mine.” She smiled and touched my face and I saw something like caring in her eyes.

                “Not for long, my brother, not if you do not act. Someone else will take him. I should like him myself, really. His aura is exploding with his need. I could feed upon that for weeks.” I gritted my teeth but stayed calm. Harry was still making coffee.

                “He isn’t yours to take, and I know you respect me enough not to do something like that to me.” She laughed and it sounded too beautiful to be real, so I knew it wasn’t; Lara doesn’t sound pretty when she laughs for real. She guffaws and she doubles over and sometimes she even snorts. She doesn’t laugh for real very often.

                “I am quite hungry as well, brother mine. Perhaps you’d best set to protecting him, yes? I’ve plenty of things you could try, of course. I wouldn’t even expect them back.” The demon gnawed at my insides and it always told me that if I were sane I would listen to my sister more. I never wanted to be sane.

                “I will not force him into anything and it isn’t your place to tell me to. All I need you to do is make sure no one I wouldn’t like gets a hold of Justine, and that my other sisters stay happy.”

                “I’m sure that more than one of them would like a go at him as well,” she said, smile still painting her cool face. She looked unreal, like a doll. People had always liked that about her; as for myself, I preferred her with her face twisting with laughter, I preferred her with humanity. Then again, she always had told me that I had bad taste.

                “Don’t do this to me, Lara. Don’t make me think like that. I’m a lot of things, you know, and a monster is one of them, but I’m not… Lara, I’m not our father.” She looked like my big sister again, for a moment; the big sister who’d pushed me on the swings, the big sister who’d put Band-Aids on my scraped up knees, the big sister who read me bedtime stories. She stroked my hair and smiled and it was real because it gave her lines around her mouth, faint but there, faint but human.  

                “I realize as much. You made me a promise that you would not be. Still yet, brother, I wish for your happiness, and I know that if he is taken from you, you will be unhappy. There is more than one creature out there who desires him, and certainly more than one who sees that aura. I’m afraid I must go now, however. Tell him thank you for the coffee,” she said, and then she was gone. Five minutes later, Harry was found glaring at the mug of coffee he’d ended up making for nobody. I’m pretty sure he raved about how hard it was to make coffee without a modern coffee maker for at least an hour afterwards. I didn’t mind, though; I was thinking about a lot (too much) and hearing his babbling calmed me down. I’m pretty sure that the worse part about all of it was that my sister hadn’t even been lying about a damn bit of what she’d said.

* * *

 

FRIDAY

                On Friday, Harry tore his stitches open, and I’m sure that that is a surprise to absolutely nobody. What is surprising, though, is how he managed to do it; see, it wasn’t anything nearly as dramatic as dragon claws like usual, no, instead he did it simply because he tripped getting out of the shadow and the counter caught the spot as he fell, tore the stitches right out. I was entirely unsure of whether to laugh at him, smack him, or cart him off to a hospital. In the end I settled for a combination, although I did at least exchange “hospital” for “Butters” as per his request.

                I had to take him to the little guy’s house instead or the mortuary because apparently he worked the graveyard shift (the pun was entirely intended when Harry told me that, by the way), and he answered quickly when I knocked. I assumed he’d come to recognize the particular urgency of the Harry-the-Dumbass-injured-himself-doing-something-stupid-again knock. Which, I guess this particular injury wasn’t technically caused by him being a dumbass, at least not this facet of it, but it made me feel better to think it was.

                Butters carted him off to a guest bedroom pretty quickly once he noticed the blood, muttering the whole way about working on dead people not living ones, and I helped settle Harry onto the bed while Butters fetched his equipment. I stood and watched him work when he came back, my back against the wall, and he spared me periodic glances as he carefully separated Harry from his haphazardly buttoned shirt as if he expected me to suddenly tear his throat out.

                He really was a rabbit-y kind of guy; his eyes would flick around nervously and his hands were quick and I was pretty sure I’d seen his nose wiggle before. He was nice, though, I had to admit that; a perfectly good guy. Really I felt almost bad for telling Harry that he should just let the fellow get eaten/tortured/whatever else by the necromancers and their pet zombies. He started replacing the torn stitches and winced when Harry did. Seeing that made Harry laugh, and he reached up to clumsily pat the other man’s back as he worked.

                “I’ve felt worse, Butters, I promise. You don’t have to look like you’re killing me.”

                “You’re the only man I know who would say that while he’s getting stitches without anesthetic.” Harry snorted.

                “Once again, I’ve felt worse. My life is stupid, Butters, you’ve seen as much. Hell’s Bells, you’ve seen me getting hurt worse than this. I’ve come to you with whole chunks taken out of me and more.” Butters sighed and finished his work, then covered the stitches up with a new bandage even though he knew as well as I did that Harry would take it off as soon as he got home. 

                “I know. It’s getting kind of annoying,” he murmured, and I went over to Harry’s bedside now that I knew I wouldn’t get in the way or anything. I then proceeded to carefully knock Butters’ hand off of Harry’s stomach, disguising it as a random sway of my arm. No one mentioned it but Butters did go a little pink in the cheeks. It was almost sweet, how he thought about the two of us, how he thought we were just your average every day loving couple. “I’ll go… get coffee,” Butters finally said, and Harry raised his eyebrows.

                “If you have Coke I’d rather take that.” Butters nodded and when he left I moved my hand. I made sure to run my fingers through Harry’s hair when Butters came back in, and I caught a random flash from his mind of different fingers replacing mine, quick fingers, doctor’s fingers. He passed Harry a Coke and me a coffee and I gave him a look to try and get across that I saw that thought, no matter how quickly he’d tucked it away.

                “Good coffee,” I told him, and he shifted a little.

                “Thanks,” he said, and I kept my gaze fixed on him. Little flashes flicked from him to me, flashes I saw when I looked at pretty much anyone, flashes of blurry, half-remembered fantasies. He was obviously trying to keep me out, though. Harry sipped his Coke obliviously, and amidst Butters’ pictures of a pretty, if a little plump, redheaded girl, I saw flashes of dark hair and a smile like a knife and fire. I trailed a fingertip down from Harry’s hair, over his cheek, and down his nose (the tip of which I poked) solely to show Butters that I could. He shifted nervously again and Harry yawned.

                “You okay, Butters?” He nodded. “Thomas? You’re acting funny too. I’m thirsty; get your hand out of my face.” I snickered and did what he said because I didn’t particularly feel like listening to him raving just then.

                “I’m alright too. I’m just thinking about how much of an idiot you are. How could you possibly be able to fall at the exact right angle for your ridiculously proportioned self to land with your stiches directly on the corner of the sharp counter in your bathroom?” Harry shrugged.

                “My talents have not yet been fully realized by the likes of simple men such as you.” I rolled my eyes.

                “Empty Night you are stupid. Hey, Butters, can we talk out there for a minute? I want to get the full scoop on what he needs to be doing for that without him around to hear it and yell about it.” Butters nodded and we both stood to Harry’s squawking and went outside into the hallway. Butters bounced a little on the balls of my feet but his eyes stayed fixed on mine, steady and maybe even a little defiant. He was tougher than people gave him credit for, I had to admit that.

                “I wouldn’t,” he finally said, when I didn’t speak for a minute or two. I grinned.

                “I know. Why would you try, really? Look at me; what could you possibly do that I can’t? If I were you, I’d go for the redhead.” Pink touched his cheeks again.

                “You saw that too?”

                “I see everything like that. I can’t help it.” He tried a smile, a little crooked.

                “That must suck when whoever you’re with thinks of someone else, huh?” I smirked.

                “Butters, no one with me ever thinks of anyone else.” I promise I wasn’t trying to destroy his self-confidence or anything, no matter how it might seem. I mean, I did tell him to go for the redhead, and she was cute. I was just trying to make sure all those little dark haired phantoms in his head went away. “Me and Harry, we’ve got a good thing going. He would never admit to it, but we do. I’m not good at sharing, by the way. And look, I like you and all, I do. If I didn’t I wouldn’t let you doctor him all better. It ever goes beyond doctoring, though, I’m going to have to step in.” He stopped bouncing and instead started shifting.

                “I wouldn’t,” he told me again. “He’s happy, right? He’s my friend. I want him to be happy; I wouldn’t want to date him anyway. He’s… he’s good to look at, but being with him would just be… he’s my friend.” I patted him on the cheek, maybe a little condescending without entirely meaning to be, and smiled. I don’t know if it reached my eyes or not, but I was trying to make it.

                “Yeah, okay. Cool. Now, is there anything special I need to do for that cut?”

                “Make sure he keeps it clean, and he can take the bandage off to give it some air, but don’t just let him remove it for forever. Also, maybe don’t let him move around too much or do a lot of strenuous stuff. I’d rather not put the stitches back in again.” I nodded.

                “Thanks, man. We’ll see you later. And thanks again for the coffee and the Coke.” We walked back into the guest room and I hefted Harry up, draped him partially over my shoulder, and left with him. Butters waved at us on the way out and Harry waved back. Thus another day of my hellish week ended.

* * *

 

SATURDAY

                Saturday was unique because it didn’t involve anyone who was currently even in Chicago; no, it involved someone long gone, someone who all of Harry’s friends had pretty much hated at least once upon a time. Someone who could still make Harry cry, even if only a little. I couldn’t say I hated her, really, but I also couldn’t say that I’d be averse to punching her a time or three. Harry was staring at his mantle win I woke up that morning, and I’d seen such a scene before.

                I stood up and he didn’t notice me do it because when I touched his shoulder gently he jumped and I felt magic rise around him for a moment before he got rid of it and it faded away into the consistent magical buzz that always served as background in his apartment.

                “Don’t scare me like that; you know you don’t make noise when you walk on my rugs,” he said, but there wasn’t the same bite to it that there would’ve been normally. It sounded like a caricature, really, like someone just trying to be a poor recreation of Harry, a poor substitute. Or, maybe, it sounded a little like a depressed Harry trying to make someone think he was still fine, still normal, still himself.

                “You can talk to me,” I said, settled a hand on his shoulder and crouched just a little so that my face was level with his. It was strange to even have to do that with him, and even stranger to realize that I didn’t have to crouch much even though he was sitting down. It always comes as a little bit of a shock, the sheer height of him, when you notice it any time after you’ve gotten to know him. He doesn’t act like a guy of his height could, doesn’t make use of the advantage it gives him over most other people. He slouches to make himself look closer to average (or at least not NBA player tall) and even though he’s a smart ass he doesn’t speak excessively loudly. If anything, he can act just a little bit meek around strangers, as if he thinks they’ll all be terrified around him if he isn’t. It gets better the longer he knows people, though, he starts acting more like himself with them. Me, I’d gotten to skip that because of my particular heritage, because he’d hated me at the start, and he didn’t care about not scaring people he hated.  

                “I know,” he finally said, because he knew he could. I rolled my eyes and pushed his shoulder just a little bit. It was always a little like pulling teeth, getting him to take my help.

                “Are you going to?” It was quiet for a minute, for more, quiet as he thought. He didn’t like involving others, most especially people he cared about, in his problems. He thought we resented it or something, he worried about us getting hurt, and he didn’t like the idea of any of our blood being even remotely on his hands. By now he thought he was covered in the blood of that woman.

                “Yeah,” he said, and stood up to follow me back to our couch because Harry had dubbed it the Feelings Couch when he was in a particularly good mood after talking about something or another. Anyway, once we sat, once he’d gotten himself properly propped up against me, my arm around his waist and his hands settled on my wrist (he still hadn’t figured out how brothers worked, to tell you the truth. He still thought this was all perfectly normal, and for my side of the family, it was, but not so much for his), I said what I always did when he was thinking about her.

                “It isn’t your fault.” And it wasn’t. He’d told her everything and she’d made her choice. That wasn’t anyone’s fault; she’d taken a risk after getting all the information and it had blown up in her face.

                “I could have stopped her. Her life is over now and that’s entirely my fault because I didn’t. I could’ve made her go home. I could have told her more. She can’t go back and I can’t fix her and that’s my fault too.” I shut my eyes and breathed and pulled him in a little closer to me. He let me because sometimes he wants comfort even if he won’t ever _say_ it.

                “You told her everything. She tried to tell you it wasn’t your fault too, you know that. You heard that, we both did. She knew she’d just made a mistake, and that she’d just ignored you. Why don’t you know that too?” He kept staring at the mantle, at the velvet ring box. I’d thought about throwing it out before, just so he wouldn’t have to stare at it. I moved my hand from his waist and covered his eyes with it instead. He squirmed a little because he didn’t like not knowing what was going on, not seeing everything, but he trusted me. My breath shuddered just a little. He was still so stupid, sometimes.

                “Because I could have done more.”

                “You could always do more, everyone could. You being a Wizard doesn’t mean you’re a fucking superhuman. You’re a mortal. You can’t save everyone. I’ve told you this, Harry. Do you have any concept of how much I hate seeing you get all torn up over her? She doesn’t deserve it. She did something damn stupid. She messed around in shit she had no hope of ever understanding. She’s lucky she isn’t dead. She made her choice and her bed, and now it’s her responsibility to lie in it. She knows that, and I have to say I respect her for it because she could have blamed you. She didn’t, though, because it wasn’t your fault and I need you to know that.” I could make him know it, I knew that. I could move just a couple of minor little things in his head, swap them around and twist them just a smidge, and he’d know it. He’d know everything I wanted him to know. I wouldn’t, though. I couldn’t. He meant too much to be a slave, a pet, a thrall. I just kept breathing, just kept his eyes covered.

                “Just because I can’t doesn’t mean I don’t need to. Would you be telling me all of this if Justine had been the one turned instead of Susan?”

                “Not in these exact words, because you weren’t the one to warn Justine about the party, but yeah, I would. You tried so damn hard to save them both, Harry, I know that. During and after the party, before too, for Susan. You tried so damn hard and I know what happened to you back there, before you got thrown into the cell with Justine.” I did know, too. I hadn’t seen all of it, no, but I’d seen flashes of it when I sipped a little feeling off of Harry. When I fed from him I tended to take the emotions relating to the bad memories, and sometimes I saw flashes of those memories when I did it. I knew about some of the sick shit DuMorne had done to him too, more than what he’d told me. After what I’d seen of him, and of those fucking Reds, I was glad they were dead. They’d hurt my baby brother. I’d promised myself years before that anyone who did that would die. He was my only brother, and I loved him probably more than I should. I held him tighter and felt his cheeks shift under my hand as he smiled. I realized I’d been eating a little bit as he spoke, draining the tension from him, and stopped. If I took too much… a lot could happen that I didn’t want to think about.

                “Thank you, for saying that,” he said, and I guessed I’d told him the right thing. It was hard to know what the right thing was, sometimes, but I tried to get it right and I tried to stay honest. Sometimes I got it wrong, though, and those times were the worst because those were the times I saw him cry and usually I hated myself afterwards because I had to add myself to the list of people who’d hurt him and that made me want to fill that promise I mentioned. I never could, though, because that would just hurt him even more.

                “I mean it,” I told him, and that made him smile too.

                “I love you, Thomas,” he told me, and I knew he did. He didn’t have to say it, and he didn’t say it often, but I knew he did. I couldn’t help but think, sometimes, that maybe that was the problem. If he didn’t love me, things would be easier. If he didn’t love me, I wouldn’t have to see him. If he didn’t love me, maybe I wouldn’t love him. I don’t love well; I never have, I can’t. I’m White Court. Even with Justine, because I’d slept with her, because I loved her, I couldn’t even pat her on the back. At least I could touch Harry, I guessed, because he was family and family was the exception. He probably didn’t know that. I didn’t bother thinking much more after that, and instead we just spent the day together, spent the day talking and smiling and I have to say that despite its bad beginnings, that was probably the best day I had that week. Or, maybe second best. Sunday might have to take the cake.

* * *

 

SUNDAY

                On Sunday, Harry wanted to go out, which I guess I could understand. I mean, beyond the thing with the dragon he hadn’t really had the most eventful week in the world. Me, on the other hand, I pretty much just wanted to lie around and do nothing that day because I had had to do way too much that week. Plus Harry’s aura was still blazing despite the nibbles I’d taken and I really didn’t want to risk something deciding that he’d make an excellent bedmate. 

                Still, I couldn’t just keep him pent up in the house for the rest of his life, even if I’d like to sometimes, and sometimes I would. Sometimes I want to turn all his friends away and tell them they can’t see him, that he doesn’t need them, sometimes I want to use my power and make it so he can’t say anything else, but I won’t. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I love him too much to do that, and I know that it’d kill him if I did, and that’s the last thing I want. He needs his friends even when I don’t want to share him with them. 

                It’s only on the bad days that I don’t manage to think that way. Anyway, his usual park was closed because of some damage incurred by a treant, although they didn’t know that was what had caused the damage. They aren’t nearly as wise as they are in Lord of the Rings, by the way; actually they’re pretty destructive. Still, because that park was closed, Harry and I just sort of walked until we came across another one, and that would’ve been perfectly fine if not for the fact that we ended up in an area that we didn’t know.

                Still, it was a park, and Harry wanted to go to the park, and this was the first one we’d found, so I just followed him into it and together we sat under a big tree and talked maybe a little too loud under the for once warm sun. It was at that point that someone walked up to us, a pretty blonde with swinging hips and hooded eyes, and she crouched down right in front of Harry, a smile I’d seen a million times on a million people curling her painted lips.

                “Hey there, honey,” she said, “Do you think you could show my friend and I where there are a few good bars? We’re new in town.” Harry didn’t talk, just tilted his head back, apparently doing his best to imitate a very large, abnormally shaped piece of tree bark. Now, I didn’t want him to go with her, obviously, but I’d never known him to be rude, and here he was ignoring the girl. It was an odd change in character, for him.

                “I guess not,” I said, admittedly pretty much dumbfounded, and she stood up straight. She also looked really offended. I had to work hard not to wave at her as she traipsed off to where she’d come from, to another woman who patted her consolingly on the shoulder. For a moment I had this totally irrational thought that Harry had finally learned how to identify people who were interested in him and was, for some reason, doing what I wanted him to and ignoring them. I really should have known better.

                “She was pretty,” he said, and my confusion mounted, “Why didn’t you go with her? I promise I could’ve gotten home by myself. You know, if you want to go after her.” I stared. He thought she’d been talking to me. I felt frustration panging at my insides again, mounting heavier and heavier as all the events of my shitty week compounded together. _He thought she was talking to me._ I stood up and grabbed him by the hand, stood up and dragged him out of the park and back home. He kept asking me what was wrong and gesturing with loose-limbed indifference back towards the park and the girls. I didn’t feel like talking because I was annoyed. I was annoyed and I was pissed off and he was the most oblivious moron I’d ever met. I needed him to know that he wasn’t a fucking ten year old, that, oh horror, people found him attractive and celibacy wasn’t good for his aura.   

                I pulled open his door, my other hand still on his upper arm, and used his weight and our position to swing him around and send him stumbling over towards the couch, his arms pin wheeling to regain his balance, legs clumsy long like a marionette’s. I slammed the door shut and he stilled, worry brilliant in his eyes. Even angry as I was I didn’t relish in scaring him like this.

                “You are the most… it wasn’t me, Harry. She was talking to _you._ Everyone this week has been after you, don’t you get that? How could you not? Harry, I know you aren’t an idiot but you’re fucking acting like one!” I stalked forwards and he let me push him onto the couch so that I could spend a few minutes towering over him.

                “Thomas, what are you talking about?” I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. I can’t say it worked perfectly because I was still pretty decidedly not calm.

                “Marcone,” I growled, deciding I may as well start at the beginning, “He’s been coming by every week with _presents_ for you. Fucking food and tickets and a bunch of other shit. He wants you, and not just your employment. You don’t have any idea what I’ve seen in his head, Harry. It’s disgusting, some of the stuff he wants to do to you. You want to hear a little bit?” Harry was wide eyed, his mouth a little agape, and I could see his thoughts shooting rapid-fire through his head.

                “Thomas, what?” I finally sighed. This was the only way I could show him. Could make him see how dangerous his life really was. I pushed him sideways and straddled his waist, held his hands up over his head, and he just stared at me. He stared at me even though he could’ve thrown me off in seconds.

                “Do you trust me?” He didn’t hesitate.

                “With my life.”

                “See? You’re acting like an idiot. I’m dangerous. Just because I’m your brother you let me in your house. On top of you. I want things, Harry. I shouldn’t, but I do. I want worse than Marcone and he’s pretty terrible.” His breathe stopped. 

                “I still trust you. I’ve… when I met you, I thought you were pretty much the most attractive person I’d ever seen. That didn’t stop when I found out we were related. Thomas, I want… I want you too. I know I shouldn’t too, but I… I love you, Thomas.” The words suddenly sounded different than they normally did. They sounded like the other sort of love. I knew that I should’ve gotten off of him, pulled away, given him up, but I was too selfish.

                “No you don’t. Not like that, not like you think you do. It’s me, it’s my power.”

                “No it isn’t. You haven’t been using it on me, have you? What I feel is what I feel; don’t treat me like I’m too incompetent to understand that.” I shuddered. Sometimes I wished that he really was an idiot. I lowered myself onto him, body to body, and felt the truth of the matter against my hip. He shut his eyes for a moment and tensed his lips. I let out a sigh and then I kissed him. I kissed him with all of the frustration I’d picked up over my time living with him, all the wrong kinds of love I shouldn’t feel, and I realized that we were fucked up, the both of us. We were broken. I hoped that we’d be able to fix each other; we sure as hell had enough time to do it. I pulled away with an obscene, wet noise and kissed the juncture of his jaw and neck.

                “Let me tell you,” I murmured, “Let me tell you what they think. Marcone first. Do you still trust me? I want you to know what I’ve had to deal with this week.”

                “Yes,” he said, and that was enough. I opened my mouth and I just started to talk with him underneath me, our bodies flush. It felt like a dream.

                “He wants you in his office,” I said, “the one with glass walls. He wants you over his desk and he wants everyone outside working to see it. He wants you to say please. Would you tell him please?” I don’t know why I asked that; maybe it was the jealousy again, maybe I wanted to know if he’d ever even consider giving in to someone like Marcone.

                “Not unless I really had to,” he told me quietly, “He doesn’t deserve that kind of respect.” That was good enough, apparently, because my demon purred just a little for me, settled itself low in my chest. I pulled his shirt off of him, probably tearing it more than a little, and kissed the hollow of his throat, down the center on his skinny chest. He arched up towards me and I could feel the guilt and the confusion mixing evenly with the lust and the want and the love.

                “Would you tell me please?” I asked him, and there, I guessed, was the second test.

                “Yes,” he said, and that was all I needed again.

                “Good. You know what else he wants? He wants you to sign his contract and call him Mr. Marcone. He wants you working for him, but more than that he wants to sign your paycheck. He wants to give you a room in his mansion for a while until you decide to move into his. He wants to feed you in his restaurants and dress you in his clothes. He wants you to leave his house covered in the smell of his cologne because then everyone will know you’re his.” I wanted things like that too, sometimes. I wanted people to know he was mine as well, but I had the right because he was mine, my little brother. I mouthed his neck. “I want to too. Will you let me?”

                “Yes,” he said again, his eyes fluttering shut, and I carefully trailed my fingers down to his jeans. My fingers, deft and practiced, undid the button and helped him shimmy out of them. The fell with a soft flutter of fabric somewhere across the room, but they were quickly beyond my concern.

                “That’s good too,” I murmured, “Tell me you trust me again.”

                “You know I do,” he said, a little bit of annoyance creeping into his voice, and I laughed.

                “Can I tie you up?” he looked really confused by that, and was silent for a minute or two. I could see him debating it behind his eyes, could see him considering pros and cons and all the fears he’d ever had about being at someone else’s mercy.

                “Does Marcone want to do that too?” I thought about all the fantasies of his that I’d seen, and finally had to admit that no, no he didn’t. He wanted a lot of shit, but apparently tying him up wasn’t one of them. I guessed maybe that was my own fucked up want, a product of my desire to keep him here and ever mine. “If you feel like you need to, go ahead. I mean, I’m not going to leave you either way, but if it’ll make you feel better… Thomas, I love you. All of you; even the parts you hate yourself. You’re not a monster to me. You’re my brother, and I love you.” I shuddered again and finally undid my belt; the stylish, stiff leather looked good around his wrists. I kissed around it softly and then climbed off of him. He looked perfect like that, spread out on his couch for me (just me, no one else, he loved me) and I wasn’t able to admire for long before I simply had to be on him again. He gasped as I pressed just a little too hard on his erection.

                “Sorry,” I mumbled, “But I want to talk about Kincaid now. Kincaid is almost as bad as Marcone; the only thing that makes him better is that if he got you he wouldn’t want to keep you. He wants casual with you, just like he does with Murphy. He wants to take you to a sleazy hotel and fuck you, then go out for cheap coffee and a strip show. He wants Murphy to come along and he wants to watch you two fuck. He thinks she’d make you cry for it. Maybe she would, I don’t know. She’ll never get the chance to see. You’re mine now, my baby brother. No one gets you but me, you hear that? Just me. Kincaid’s not going to get to see what you look like when you’ve gotten fucked so much you can’t keep your eyes open, he’s not going to get to see you come to heel.”

                “Come to heel?” he asked, a crooked smile on his face, and I twisted his dick a little in my hand because he was being annoying and interrupting me.

                “Yeah. You’re a mouthy asshole. Most people want to make you shut up and put your mouth to better use than sarcasm. Kincaid’s one of them. He figures you give great head; I’ll have to try it out some time. I like the other thing he wants too, the thing with the ring. Come to think of it…” I stood up and dug through my clothes, my stuff, in the pile in the corner of the living room. I found the ring, pretty and silver, near the bottom, and when I slid it down over his dick he wriggled underneath me. I took pleasure in pressing my weight down onto his hips to still him.

                “What’re you doing now?” he asked.

                “It’s a cock ring,” I said, “It’ll make it better when I let you come.” He stilled at that, relaxed and went pliant underneath me again and the fact that he still trusted me made my blood sing.

                “You would know,” he mumbled, and I laughed.

                “Yeah,” I said, and kissed him again just because I could. Because no one else could. Because he was mine. “That dragon,” I murmured against his lips, “That dragon wanted you to be his centerpiece. I saw that much even though it’s harder for me to read things that aren’t human. He wants you to be his crown jewel, his queen. That’s what he’s working for now. He wants to create a territory splendid enough that you’ll say yes. His wants are base, primal. Animal more than human. He just saw a pretty face and power. I would never reduce you to that,” I whispered into his neck, and he moved his arms at a truly impressive angle so that his hands could rake once through my hair. He then stretched up and kissed me softly, soundly. The guilt was fading into something smoother, kinder, something that slipped over my skin like water. The lust, though, that was still there, periodically swirling that smooth water into a tidal wave against my senses.

                “I know,” he said, and I picked up his leg carefully, slung it over my shoulder so I could get to where I needed to be. I sucked hard on my own fingers for a bit, the motion practiced and easy and quick, and Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of it. His eyes, normally dark on their own, were nearly black from how big his pupils had blown, and the brown I could still catch glimpses of was hazy and unclear. I turned down my mojo a little; I hadn’t even realized that it had gotten that out of control. I slipped a finger into him, quick but careful, and when I moved it he moved with me. I let him set the rhythm because I was setting everything else, and I didn’t put in another finger until he whimpered for it.

                “Lara, Lara is always a good one. She imagines sometimes that you’re a virgin; she likes virgins. She likes teaching people. She’d still be able to teach you a lot, wouldn’t she? You’ve been all Vanilla before now. She doesn’t _really_ want you, though, not like those other two. No, see, she knows she couldn’t do anything with you if she got you. You wear love like armor. She came here so she could get me to get a move on. She cares about me, you know, in her own way. She wants me happy and she knew you’d make me that way. She played at taking you to goad me into doing it for real.

                “She was… Justine. What about… what about Justine?” Harry whimpered as I stretched my fingers and with them, him. He’d never felt this before, I knew that; I could feel his surprise that he even liked it. Worry bubbled under his skin now, worry over my answer to this, and he’d earned the right to honesty now.

                “I love Justine,” I said, “Just like I love you. It’s a different sort of love, though; I feel like I’ve gotten it backwards. She’s more like a sibling to me now than you are, baby brother.” I’d given another right answer, it seemed. That must’ve been a new record. I always say something wrong to him.

                “Can’t complain,” he whispered, and I had to laugh. He did too, and I got in the third finger while the action had him relaxed. He arched tight as a bowstring and I’m pretty sure he’d have been coming if not for the ring. My own dick twitched to impatiently remind me that I had better things to do than think about that.

                “Butters is almost sort of funny, you know? He’s just so earnest. His fantasies aren’t too common and when they show up they get him all flustered. He dreams about your smile because he doesn’t see it often enough. He imagines how kind and how loyal you’d be. He thinks about how you’d protect him. You only show up when something has him spooked, though, or when he’s confronted with your body all at once like on Thursday, so I can’t say he’s as bad as the rest.” Harry rolled his eyes.

                “Don’t be mean to Butters,” he told me, “He’s a good guy. Everyone else, whatever, say what you want, but he’s hard enough on himself without your help.” I laughed a little and felt like rubbing our cheeks together for whatever reason.

                “I just said he wasn’t the worst of them, didn’t I?”

                “You’re still an asshole.” I went on in my diatribe as if I didn’t hear that. 

                “Susan might actually be the worst, though, even if she isn’t here anymore. I hate how terrible she makes you feel, you know that? I hate how easily she can still make you cry. She’s not a bad person, I know that; hell, her only fault was that she was too damned devoted to a good story. I still hate her, though, for what she’s done to you.” I bit at his neck where before I’d been kissing, left tiny little marks that would serve as suitable precursors for later.

                “Don’t be bitter towards her when I’m not,” he told me, still surprisingly coherent. I twisted my fingers hard and drew a long moan out of him, one that turned abruptly into something like a scream when I struck his prostate.

                “Do you still love her?” I asked him and I needed to know that, I had to know that.

                “A little,” he said, and I was glad for his honesty even if the words weren’t the ones I’d wanted to hear, “She was only my second long-term girlfriend, and she was the only one I could really and truly guarantee wasn’t under anyone else’s influence when she showed interest in me. She was real; she cared about me for who I was. I can’t just throw that away. I don’t love her like I used to, and I don’t love her like you, but yeah, I still can’t help but love her some.”

                “That’s enough for now,” I told him, and just like it had all week, my frustration was mounting as I spoke. I jerked my fingers free and shifted us around until the head of my dick pressed at his ass. I thrust in in one long motion that drew twin noises from low in our throats and it was something like the most beautiful thing I’d ever felt. It was heaven, it was safety, it was everything good in the world that I’d ever known all wrapped up in one neat, easy to hold package. It was Harry, pure and simple. I jerked at his dick and he looked up at me with eyes a little wet and desperately tried to figure out which way his hips should be jerking. I could see him losing himself in the pleasure.

                “Thomas, Thomas, Thomas, please,” he chanted like it was one of his spells, like it was the most important thing in the world, and I felt the power going to my head. I started talking again as I moved in him, as I grabbed his hips instead of his dick and moved him where I wanted. He replaced my hold on that particular part of his anatomy but was apparently too far gone to realize that unless he took the ring off he couldn’t come no matter how much he jerked himself, no matter how good he felt. I couldn’t exactly complain about that; if anything, I felt a surge of pride.

                “Then, then there was that fucking woman. She wasn’t after me, like I said. It was you. All this week… all this week, it’s been you! Your aura has been begging people to fuck you. Empty Night, that girl saw you for all of five minutes and she was already imagining taking you back to her apartment, having you whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and then falling in love and having some kind of whirlwind romance. It’s like that with you and everybody! Not anymore though,” I said, getting more frantic the closer I got to finishing, “You want to know why?” He burbled, voice lost, and I slowed to something close to a stop even though it tortured me almost as much as him. “Ask me.” I really did have to stop before he found himself capable, and even then I was slapping his hand away from his dick every few seconds.

                “Why?” he croaked, voice dry and hoarse, and I pulled out until nothing but the tip remained in him.

                “Because you,” I said, and slammed back inside, “are mine.” One more thrust and I was coming hard, the aftershocks jolting through me like lightning even as I bent forward and clamped my teeth down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, shook my head like a dog and dug the marks in deep. I tasted a little blood in my mouth as I pulled away and saw a fleck or three on his pale shoulder too. He was twitching underneath me, still hard and squirming, his face slack and his eyes a million miles away. I slipped out of him and felt him shudder, and when I got control of my own breathing, I spoke again. “You wanna come?” I asked him, and he nodded. “If you really do, you’ll ask me.”

                “C-can I?” he mumbled, voice wavering and just a little too high, but that was amazing, that was perfect, that was fine. I slid the ring off and immediately put him in my mouth and then he was coming too, so hard that only his heels and his shoulders stayed on the couch, and I had to move fast to either follow him up or choke on it. He collapsed afterwards and his eyes shut and I realized that the upstairs neighbors, some older couple whose names I couldn’t quite recall, were banging on their floor above us and yelling to keep it a little quieter and oh, yeah, Harry had screamed pretty loudly, hadn’t he? Empty Night, maybe I had too. I couldn’t exactly remember.

                Either way, Harry was pretty much dead to the world at that point and half the block probably didn’t have power anymore because of the magical shockwave I’d felt going out, but they could deal with it. I undid his wrists and tossed the belt over with his clothes (I’d done nothing but slip my dick out of my pants, I now noticed, and I rectified that by just going ahead and stripping entirely) then grabbed a rag from his bathroom and cleaned us both of whatever sweat and come I could before I picked him up as if he were a bag of feathers and carried him to his bedroom. I slid him under the covers and crawled in after him, and I’m pretty sure I slept better that night than I had in years.  

* * *

 

                The next morning, a Monday, I woke up to a knock at the door and really and truly had to smile. I hopped into a pair of pants just before I pulled open the door, and saw Marcone standing there. I laughed; looked like the cycle was starting over. Oh well, maybe I could learn to enjoy it, now. After all, I had won. The only thing left to do now was make sure that everyone else knew that too. I gestured for him to lean in just a little so that he could see Harry’s clothes in a pile by the fireplace, and the currently stained couch that I would probably have to pay to clean, and at the look of utter disbelief on his face, I slammed the door shut, locked it back, removed the pants, and crawled back into bed. Harry didn’t even stir. Ah well; just another day in the life of me, Thomas Raith, personal Chastity Defender of one Harry Dresden.

 

           

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, there's just one more fic to post until my last big story for this fandom! I'm getting super excited! Also, this is the last fic before the finale to my fairytales series! Milestones everywhere! Huh, I think I'm getting way too excited about this, so I should probably go to bed. Hope you enjoyed this one, everyone!


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